Abroad with the Jimmies eBook

“Ah! but here we are obliged to be linguists,
because, if we travel at all, we must speak other
languages, and, if we entertain at all, we meet people
who cannot speak ours, which is very difficult to learn.
But languages are easy.”

“Oh! are they?” said Jimmie, involuntarily,
and everybody laughed.

“Jimmie’s languages are unique,”
said Bee.

“Are you going to Italy?” said the countess.

“Yes, we hope to spend next spring in Italy,
beginning with Sicily and working slowly northward.”

“How delightful! How charming!” cried
the countess. “How I wish, how I wish
I could go with you.”

“Go with us?” I cried in delight.
“Could you manage it? We should be so flattered
to have your company.”

“Oh, if I could! I shall ask. It will
do no harm to ask.”

We had all stood up to go and had begun to shake hands
when she cried across to her husband:

“Leo, Leo, may I go—­”

Then seeing she had not engaged her husband’s
attention, who was talking to Jimmie about single
tax, she went over and pulled his sleeve.

“Leo, may I go with them to Italy in the spring?
Please, dear Leo, say yes.”

He shook his head gravely, and the little countess
smiled at her mother’s enthusiasm.

“He doesn’t need me at all,” she
whispered. “I’d go anyway if I had
the money.”

As I said before, Russia and America are very much
alike.

As we left the house my mind recurred to Max Nordau,
whose personality and methods I have so imperfectly
presented. The contrast to Tolstoy would intrude
itself. In all the conversations I ever had with
Max Nordau, he spent most of the time in trying to
be a help and a benefit to me. The physician
in him was always at the front. His aim was healing,
and I only regret that their intimate personality prevents
me from relating them word for word, as they would
interest and benefit others quite as much as they
did me.

The difference between these two great leaders of
thought—­these two great reformers, Nordau
and Tolstoy—­is the theme of many learned
discussions, and admits many different points of view.

To me they present this aspect: Tolstoy, like
Goethe, is an interesting combination of genius and
hypocrisy. He preaches unselfishness, while himself
the embodiment of self. Max Nordau is his antithesis.
Nordau gives with generous enthusiasm—­of
his time, his learning, his genius, most of all, of
himself. Tolstoy fastens himself upon each newcomer
politely, like a courteous leech, sucks him dry, and
then writes.